


Notes

by gnashing_teeth



Category: Halt and Catch Fire
Genre: Angst Lite, F/M, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Other, POV First Person, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:14:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29306337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnashing_teeth/pseuds/gnashing_teeth
Summary: You've been dating for a while, but Joe MacMillan needs to move for work. He has something important he has to tell you before he leaves.
Relationships: Joe MacMillan/Reader, Joe MacMillan/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Notes

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read by anyone, Narrator Character's gender is never specified. You could even insert from a character's POV if you want. 
> 
> Specifically imagined this was Joe near the end of season two.

He was leaving. 

That was the nature of his work, something I was used to, but this time he was leaving the state; leaving to work in California. 

His head hung low, eyes getting ruddy as he looked down at me when he told the news. I knew his past tormented him. It hadn’t taken very long for him to tell me what he had done after we met. Reluctantly divulging in who he had hurt, the conniving, the lies, the manipulation. Realizing his mistakes after the fall out and the bonds past being mended once he tried to catch up to the people who had given up on him. He understood where they were coming from, but the agony of the opportunities he missed because of it dragged him low to the ground. There was no easy fix to any of it-- I could read it on his face-- everything still ached. 

“I have to leave tonight.” 

The words were thick and mangled by tears. I stayed silent, trailing my hands along the railing of the patio, gazing out into the dark of our neighborhood. With no moon, the few sconces and streetlights burning seemed like far off worlds in a sea of navy, black night. Our own space was barely illuminated by the three set candles on the patio table. 

“I…” he fought the words, fought his instinct. Everything he tried to hold close always escaped his grasp, I wanted to help him, but only he could say the words. Even if I knew what they were; what I was waiting to hear. 

He took another second, a frustrated exhale. 

“I love you….” his voice cracked in torment-- a pause, “I want you to come with me.” His tone shifted; fringing on desperate. “There are so many things you could do. It would be a nice change of pace. Everything is different there, the culture, the weather. We could go to the beach. You wouldn’t have to be alone here.”

I smiled, he was still on his business pitches. 

I turned to look at him, “I love you too. It doesn’t matter how far you go, I’ll love you still. I’ll wait for you, I promise.”

Joe’s mouth parted-- to question what I said or add anything more-- I couldn’t tell, but in the end his eyes screwed shut, lips pressed in a fine line until it curved into a tight smile. A heavy, shuddering breath left him as he pulled me close to his large frame and I was engulfed. 

Surrounded by him. 

Safe. Loved. 

“You’re a good person.” I felt it tumble from my lips and reverberate into his chest. It quaked his insides and he wrenched me tightly until every part of us was touching.

After the moment-- once our muscles finally seared from rigid stiffness-- he released me. I looked up into his dark gaze, reaching with my hand to trace the stubble beginning to grow on his face. Prickles of hair grazing my fingertips and then the back of my hand as I turned it. 

“You’re gonna have to shave again to look your best.” I tease and he seems relieved for the levity until his thoughts seemingly shift again. 

He’s playing with the edge of our small patio table, the flames from candles flicker and dim. When it’s bright and settled again I see an envelope in his hand, as if he had pulled it from the black shadows.

“I wrote you a letter.” he says carefully, drawing out each word as if testing the air. 

A smile instantly stretches across my face, taking the parchment from his hands with a little more vigor than I intended, but he quickly snatches it away before I could pull it from his pincer grip. 

“I want you to read it once I’m gone. Do you promise?” 

I nod eagerly and he’s gentle this time handing me the envelope. We both know that’s not going to happen. 

______

_You make me feel things I’ve never allowed myself to feel before. For once the world is still. I’m not reaching out to desperately grasp at straws, to spin new tales or feed more lies. I’m not angry anymore. I’m not chasing futile ideas and getting caught in the brainstorm. I see clearer than I ever have. I trust in you. I trust the way we work well together. I know now how truly rare that is. I know to cherish it._

_I love you. I hope I had the courage to tell you that before I left, before you read this._

_Yours,  
_ _Joe MacMillan_

I’m twenty minutes in the cold, standing on the patio again. It’s homey still despite it all, the dark engulfing me, everyone’s asleep, it’s four in the morning. I’ve reread this letter a few times now. Maybe it’s the warmth of his words that keep me standing here, scanning his neat penmanship over and over. 

Letters were a quirk of his that I always found endearing. I remember encouraging him when he hesitated on the idea of writing to his previous friends. And I remember as the weeks progressed and he stopped waiting for a call. The days of him checking the mail getting farther and farther apart, as he carded through bills quickly to search for something that never came. 

But then he turned to love notes. I’d find them at times in different areas of the house. At first, reminders of tasks that transformed to small declarations of adoration. Turned further now to a love letter-- addressing fears he felt with me, worries of the future-- but above it all there was hope. This last paragraph that I was memorizing every stroke of his pen were the seeds he had planted. What he wants to sow; with me. 

Two strong arms find their way around my stomach, a head on my shoulder, a kiss on my cheek. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait.” he laughs softly in my ear.

“Can you blame me?” I said.

“No.” he holds tighter, “I’ve done enough waiting too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea for quite a little while now, based off elements of a dream I had. I wish I could remember the letter from my dream, it's a lot better than what I wrote, but I do remember the specifics of him stating "we work well together" so I needed to add that at the very least. 
> 
> I actually put decent effort into this one. I'm still not 100% happy with it (the letter, again, being a part I'm really not that satisfied with), but I think I did nice enough with everything else. I could sit here and still nitpick at it, but I figured it was time for posting.
> 
> [my carrd](https://gnashingteeth.carrd.co/)


End file.
